


Chiaroscuro

by AnneLaurant



Category: W.I.T.C.H.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-11-16 22:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneLaurant/pseuds/AnneLaurant
Summary: Light. Darkness. Figures. Depth. Orube never really thought much about it, but sometimes, she picks up a few things with Lord Cedric.Based on RedDes' sketches.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Sketches found here](https://reddesart.tumblr.com/post/162017694314/i-brought-some-lazy-sketches-of-oxc), NSFW-ish. This fic is also semi-related to [The Girl](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8999032), which is also based on RedDes' art.
> 
> Nothing too explicit, but be warned.

Orube thinks that there's nothing particularly interesting about either light or darkness. Poets love to play with this concept; sages use it to hint at one's character. Orube never really thought about it. Light was morning, and darkness was night. Sometimes, it was light all day, or maybe dark all day, depending on the turn of the season.

And Lord Cedric tells her, "You don't understand art." He tells her, as he draws back and removes his shirt. "Haven't you ever played with shadows on the wall?"

Orube thinks about it. She's never played with shadows. She thought nothing of it. All she knows is that she misses the warm light of Basiliade, and that the cold light of Meridian is gloomy, compared to home. 

She misses home, but just a little. (No one is there to welcome her back, and Luba is dead.) 

"You look sad." Lord Cedric chuckles. She knows he's not mocking her; he's part amused, part nervous. She could feel his hands tremble as they travel up her thigh. 

"I'm not. Not at all." Then, it's her turn to tremble and shake. His fingers touch her, _right there._ Her breath hitches, and she arches her back against the bed. "H-how can I b-be sad, if you, _hah..._ do that?" 

"Makes sense." She gasps a little too loudly, and Lord Cedric feels a lot more confident now. His smile now feels a lot more genuine, a lot smugger. He looks like a triumphant warrior, his features illuminated by the light, filtering in through a single window in this dimly-lit room. 

She'll never tell him, but it pleases her to see him act like this because of her. She likes to drive him mad. 

And then, an idea comes to mind.

"Sometimes, I don't understand your clothes," she says, removing his hands from her and sitting up, straddling him, "And I don't understand why the Prince hates my clothes, either."

"He doesn't understand how Basiliadean robes work, that's all." He chuckles again, and his hands are on her thighs once more. "I think it's rather charming. It's so... like you."

"Why? Because I'm supposed to be different?" she snarls. She doesn't do it because she doesn't like his answer; she does it to evoke his charming tongue.

And, Lord Cedric delivers. "No. It's that, when I think of Basiliade, I think of you. I think of your red robes, of how I'd like to stick my hands inside, to touch your flesh, to feel it burn, to make you cry out loud. I like to think you'd squirm, but you give in, and you let me explore you. And you always act so shy, but you're the better schemer. You always say things I'd never expect from your lips. You make me wild, by commanding me to do as you please." 

Orube shivers at the thought, the images flashing in her mind. She lets herself grind against him for a while, and she hears him hum and moan in satisfaction. He leans in to whisper, no, to growl, "It'ssss... _erotic_." 

"Erotic, huh?" And suddenly, her clothes feel so heavy on her shoulders; her obi sash too tight around her stomach. Her skin is probably red like her robes, now. She feels him nip at her neck. 

"No one else shares my sentiments. They think you're being shameless." He sucks on her bruised flesh; she bites back a moan. "As if I'll ever share you with them." 

"How selfish," Orube comments, and Lord Cedric pulls her hair gently, to make her look at him in the eyes. 

"Love is the most selfish thing in the world." 

His hand lets go, and, their mouths meet again, hungry for each other. She lets his teeth graze her lips, and his tongue ravish hers. They devour each other, saliva trickling down their chin. 

And when they part, they are both breathless. The darkness makes Lord Cedric look a little more intimidating, a little more... alluring. The play of shadows on his skin shape his figure, a figure she so adores. A strong figure: the abdomen, the pectorals, the biceps. His cheekbones are well-defined, high on his face, different from all her clansmen.

"You know, you Basiliadeans are rather crafty." His husky voice snaps her out of her daydream, and his hands are suddenly behind her, undoing her obi sash. _Unfair._ "It feels like I'm unwrapping a present."

Orube lets him finish, but she immediately stops him. "Hmm, in that case, what do you think of the present unwrapping herself?"

Lord Cedric loses composure for a brief moment. He drops his smile, but it's soon replaced with a lusty grin. He wants it. He wants his present unwrapped.

She makes a little show of being shy once more, letting her hands linger at the edge of her robes. She lets a little skin show, then she covers herself, then she draws the cloth away again. She wants to tease him, and drive him impatient, but he wins the game. He lets his hands stay where they should be, far from where she wants them to be. She snorts in defeat, and lets her robes fall from her shoulders.

Then, she suddenly feels his hands grab at them from behind her, and pull her clothes down. Before him, her bosom is now exposed. Actually, in this dimly-lit room, she feels even more exposed. The light shapes her, too, and before him, she looks so vulnerable and frail. Ah, damn it. That isn't what she had in mind.

"Hey!" she tries to scold him, as she shivers from the thought of being naked before him, but Lord Cedric only smiles.

"This is the point where you're supposed to ask me if I like what I see. But, oh well." His eyes fix themselves on her breasts, and after a while, he looks back up. His eyes... flash gold. _His real eyes_. "I'll tell you then. I like it. A lot."

Orube sticks her tongue out in childish defiance, and his own forked tongue reaches out to meet it. Their tongues engage in a dance, of trying to dominate one another and seek the other's mouth. But, instead of giving him the satisfaction of playing this little game, she withdraws her tongue, and leans away. He gives chase, and he pushes her against the bed.

"Orube... my Orube..." he hisses, capturing her lips in a kiss once more, as he lets his hands roam around her flushed skin. She shuts her eyes, and in this darkness that she sees, she is so naked, so vulnerable. His hands map her body to her, and he makes her very aware of her many body parts, her contours and her curves, her femininity. Her mouth is agape, letting escape so many embarrassing sounds. She gasps, she moans, she screams his name.

And he's only touching. If... if that tongue of his is to... _lick..._ her...

Suddenly, she feels sharp claws dig into her skin. Ah... Lord Cedric is losing control over himself. It happens, sometimes.

Now, the thought of making love with him in his real form is delightful. However, he's a little too embarrassed for that right now. Silly snake.

Orube lets her eyes flutter open, and sees Lord Cedric struggling with himself. He is half-shifted at his forearms, and that's... happened quite a few times before.

"Don't force yourself," she whispers, as gently as she can. He forces himself to look at her; she can tell from how he shakes.

"I'll hurt you," he warns.

"You won't." She trusts him. He'll never hurt her. "So show me."

He quickly throws his head to the side. He is too aroused to contain his concentration over himself. He'll probably scold her later for doing this, but Orube is too aroused herself to think otherwise.

"Show yourself to me. Bare yourself to me."

And he transforms. In the darkness, he grows big, and instead of skin, scales cover his body. His golden hair is now loose behind him, around him. Instead of legs, he has a tail. He is frightful in this form, to many. To her, he was a beautiful beast. The play of light and shadow on his figure makes him even more alluring. She feels enthralled; she feels even more excited. He intoxicates her.

He, though, does not share the feeling. “I’ll hurt you,” he repeats with a frown.

Orube smiles at him. Silly snake. “Have faith in yourself, _Lord_ Cedric,” she purrs, settling her hands at her side and opening her legs a little. “Come.”

“You’re going to pull me into a different darkness, you know.” His tone is mocking. Her encouragement has worked. His large body hovers over her, and he begins to kiss and touch her again. Orube smiles to herself, squirming in pleasure from his affections.

“I love you, Cedric,” she moans out, reaching to touch his face.

“I love you too, Orube.” He captures her lips in a kiss, closing that annoying distance between them.

In this play of light and dark, he is art. In this darkness, he shines. Maybe… maybe there is something about light and darkness, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T-the image I gave you at the end... I'm k-kinda sorry about it. (No, I'm not. It's just that, I don't see many pieces involving Orube and Cedric in his real form and I kinda... um, lost control over myself. Um. Sorry.)


	2. A Man and a Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the darkness only illuminated by the moon, two lovers get noisy and needy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you RedDes for another [wonderful artwork](https://reddesart.tumblr.com/post/166700980134/all-fanart-that-i-did-during-this-month-besides).

Earth. Heatherfield.

A quiet little place. Not quite an ordinary little place, though, for it housed magic within.

Nighttime.

The moon was high above the skies, accompanied by a few stars. Only a few lights remained. Late night owls were still occupied with their own businesses.

Along a silent street stood a quaint two-storey building. Its first floor was a bookstore named "Ye Olde Bookshop". Despite being rather old-fashioned, it remained a popular place for many patrons.

Bookshelves lined its walls. There were two doors inside other than its entrance; one leading to the restroom, the other leading down the basement.

Patrons usually wondered how to reach second floor.

Unknown to them, there was a third door.

When the entrance was locked and the lights turned off, its owner would slide a very special bookshelf away, to reveal a staircase leading upwards. The aura of this second floor mirrored that of its master, that of the bookshop downstairs. This man liked antiques and roses, extravagant, ornate designs, darker colors accentuated with gold. Books, even when kept orderly, littered the place. Each corner had a book.

A small living room with a small television. A kitchen that doubled as a dining. A small bathroom. Bare necessities.

But, there were two other rooms.

One housed the owner's many other books, a workroom of sorts. But, the books in this room differ edfrom the others. A strange alphabet was inscripted on their pages and their covers. One would think this was probably ancient text, but they would be wrong - this was alien text.

The other was the mysterious owner's bedroom.

A bedroom where alien language was exchanged.

On the bed sat the golden-haired owner and his golden-eyed lover, relishing in each other's presence.

"Aren't you such a darling, Milady?"

"Oh, Milord..."

The lovers were not of this earth. The woman's pointed ears betrayed her origin; the man, the bookstore owner, had a forked tongue like a snake's, darting out to lick her ear. The woman mewled.

"C-Cedric..."

"You're... so soft, Orube..."

Soft silk hugged the woman's figure. The cloth of her robe was translucent, hiding no secrets from her man, who was bare from the waist up. Their lips met, ferocious and needy in their claim on each other. Lips tugging, teeth nibbling, tongues massaging - they shared breaths, saliva dripping down their chins, and hands and nails and claws tugging on each other's backs. _Mine._

"...my lady..."

"...my lord..."

Voices husky and low, they kissed again. He left her lips to trail kisses along her jaw, biting back the urge to mark her skin with his teeth. _Mine._

He gently pulled her onto his lap, and she eagerly obliged. Once she'd properly straddled him, they resumed kissing. Licking, biting, sucking. Filling. _Feeling_. Asking for more, more, more. She began to grind against the tent of his pants - she wore nothing under that robe of hers; he only had pants on and nothing else. Their crotches would wet the annoying fabric between them. Merely the desire to last kept them from tearing his pants off and proceeding to connect with each other.

Faces flushed and breath short, they pulled away, foreheads touching each other. They stared into each other's eyes, gazing and watching every movement, every eyelash, every flicker. Panting like beasts eager for the kill, they snarled at each other, growled at each other. Mine.

"S-so why," said she, "Did you... give me this... this robe, a-again?"

"Because it suits you," he replied rather simply, "I knew... I knew it would..."

The robe did little to hide her, and little to hinder him. A hand slid up her thigh, feeling the soft skin there. His eyes changed to their real appearance, an eerie yellow hue with slit pupils, pupils that were blowing wide in desire and pleasure.

"Milord..." She sighed, taking his hand and sliding it closer to her hips. "Not there..."

He chuckled. "Higher then, Milady? Aren't you too eager?"

"I am... always eager... so Milord... t-touch me..."

He complied with her earnest request. His fingers reached under her robe, tracing her hipbone before sliding towards the inside of her thigh, and up to her heat. She gasped and flinched, her hands flying to his back and clinging onto him for dear life.

"T-touch me... more..." She rolled her r's, wanton and yearning for his fingers... for more than that. The organ hiding behind the tent in his pants. His hot length. His thick girth.

So, when he slid his fingers inside her, she cried out, throwing her head back. Merely fingers. They sent shocks down her spine, spread fire throughout her skin. They stretched her, explored her caverns, her core. He felt through her deepest parts, parts she'd only ever bare to him, parts she'd give only to him. Deeper. She wanted them deeper. She wanted it thicker.

But her man had something else in mind. He withdrew his fingers and laid her down on the bed, where rose petals littered about, his figure looming over her. _Not fair._

"Ceeedric..." she whined, wrapping her legs around him. He pulled them away from his waist.

"Patience, love."

He moved about, so his head was between her legs. His eyes watched her, as her eyes watched him. She anticipated, intent on hooking her legs on his shoulders. He anticipated that - he immediately pinned them down to his sides.

"Patience," he repeated, and slowly, he darted his forked tongue out, flicking at the hardened nub in front of him. His woman cried out. Patience? He wanted her to be patient, and yet he made her insane with such soft contact? Patience? Even he was starting to shift into his other form, his real form. His forearms were now covered in green scales, a red mask over his eyes. What did her man expect her to do?!

Her hands reached for his head, in need of his touch. More, more... _Didn't you say I was yours? Why are you toying with me? My Lord, all of my heart, my mind, my body, everything is yours. Everything I give to you. And yet, why do you reward me so sparingly?_

Her man only chuckled, amused at her impatience. He kissed her thigh, licked at the skin there. She shivered even more. She clearly didn't want that. He chuckled once more before biting, marking her.

She tensed. His bite sent her whimpering. He decided not to tease her anymore; else, she'd probably send him into oblivion for not satisfying her. What a woman he had!

And so, he dove in.

He started by kissing her inner thigh, trailing kisses towards her entrance. She gasped and writhed, eager to accept him and his kisses. His mouth. His tongue. She tried bucking up towards him, tried to tell him what she wanted. Her man licked his lips, before licking her clit.

She cried.

He proceeded with lapping at it, swirling his tongue over its shape, even sucking on it. His woman screamed, her limbs, her head, her torso trying to find a comfortable position to stay in and finding none. Her back arched, her chest sticking out, which oh-so-tempted him to leave his treat for his lady. But, oh well. The sight still filled his appetite, her flushed skin glistening and veiled by sweat.

He drew back from her clit, before swiping the whole area with his tongue, tasting her tangy juices. His woman screamed, and her fingers tangled into the blonde locks of his hair, urging him for more, harder.

As she demanded, he complied.

He kissed her clit, before he held the lips of her womanhood open and pushed his tongue in. Warm. Tight. Slippery and wet. As he enjoyed exploring her, feeling her, tasting her, he listened to her cries and moans and screams, felt her tensing and jolting and writhing and shaking.

"Ceeedriiic! M-Milord! My Lord!"

Oh, how wonderful she was, on his tongue, on his ears. How mad she drove him. He sucked her juices greedily, lapping up on every single drop that he could taste. More, he heard her say without words, give me more...

He pulled away and lifted her legs up, pinning them on either side of her, his claws digging into her skin. She gasped at the motions, and feeling bare, she covered herself. Some of her juices trailed down his chin, dripping onto the covers. His woman shivered at the sight, her eyes hazy with lust and desire. M-more... won't you give me more...?

She bit her lip, watching him lick his lips oh-so-slowly. Her man, whom she owned, dominated her this way. No, only because she let him have his way. Oh... she'd like to dominate him too.

"Milord..." she purred, uncovering her wet folds and spreading them for him to see. "M-more... give me more..."

Her man decided to make her wait for a little more. First, he kissed her again, capturing her lips in a fiery but sloppy kiss. He ground his clothed erection against her wet entrance. She mewled and whimpered, wanting more than just rubbing. His hands give her erect nipples a playful squeeze - ah, the nerve of this man!

Now that his hands weren't on her legs, she used her strength to toll them over and push his back against the bed. It's her man's turn to growl and whine now. He wanted control, alright.

"I said more, Milord, more..." she purred into his ear. "I wonder 'more' means to you. Do you not want me? Do you not need me?"

To accent her words, she pulled his erection into view. Delicious. Hot. Thick. Long. He growled in pleasure, his hands resting on her bosom, still. She only rolled her eyes, and echoed his words from earlier: "Patience, love."

And oh so obedient he was, her man obeyed. His hands slid down to her waist, still covered by her flimsy robe. Did this robe serve a purpose other than to enchant him? To accentuate her figure? She chuckled at the thought, before aligning the tip of his erection with her entrance, and pushing herself down on him.

Their breaths hitched, and their claws dig into their skins, drawing blood. Moments slipped by, and after a few more grunting and sighing, she's fitted himself inside him, all the way down. All the way in, in his case.

Connected. No barriers between them. No secrets, no holding back. Just him and her, her and him. Lovers, baring themselves to each other.

He sat up to assist her in sliding up and down his length. Their pace was gentle and slow at first, accommodating all their fears and worries. Their lips met again, their hands shy and simply holding onto each other, making sure that this was real. That their partner, their lover was real. That their love, itself, was real.

A few moments later and their confidence, their little game was back. They would try to meet their thrusts, and their feral golden eyes gaze at each other once again. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the smell of saliva and sweat and their musk mingling in the air...

His hands grabbed her breasts, and he bit on one of them, not so gently. She cried out at the sharp teeth tearing into her flesh, tears forming on the sides of her eyes.

He sucked on the wound, lapping around her nipple in apology. She mewled in response, and his thrusting began to get faster, harder, deeper. She dragged her claws across his back. She'd deal with that in the bath later or tomorrow; the wounds would sting.

Neither cared. It was pleasurable for both of them, marking and being marked. _Mine and yours. Yours and mine._

And then, he threw her on the bed, desire taking control of him and making him abandon his gentleness. She wanted it too - she forced herself to recover from the quick change, spreading her arms and legs to receive him. He did not disappoint, thrusting into her with full force.

She screamed, her limbs throwing themselves around him. Louder and louder the noises became; harder and faster their pace went. He bit her wherever he could reach - all over her chest, her shoulder, her neck, even her ears. She scratched him in return, and his back, even his biceps, were covered in claw marks all over.

Release washed over them quickly. Their juices mixed with each other inside her; their bodies convulsed through the force of their orgasm. He collapsed on top of her, and she gladly welcomed him in her bosom. However, the night was still young for both of them.

At one point, he lied on his back, watching his woman bob her head up and down on his length.

At one point, she bent over the bed, crying out in pleasure as he thrust into her from behind.

At one point, they were fighting for dominance against the wall, not knowing whether to settle for hands being bound or not, what position he should bend her body to. (They ended up falling doing it on the floor.)

At one point, they were both pleasuring each other, his tongue inside her, her mouth around his length.

Finally, they lied in bed, spent and tired, panting like the feral beasts they were.

Blood trickled down their skin, but they could care less. Their bruised lips connected once more, for one final kiss.

The man fully shifted back into his real form, and once he was a huge, monstrous naga next to his feline lover, he groaned. "Ouch."

"...I should be the one saying that," she scolded, frowning. Seeing that the robe didn't serve much purpose, she pulled it away from her.

"...ssssexy."

"Pervert."

He snarled, wrapping an arm around her.

"Love you, Orube."

"I love you too, Cedric."

Tonight, they should've been revisiting their plans to destroy the guardians.

Tomorrow, they'd have to pull something off, without regretting any single moment of this night.

(Un)Luckily for them, only the moon illuminating their room, was witness to their activities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You feel your sins crawling on your back.


End file.
